Atlas stomped down the halls of Ridgekeep's residence wing. A few beads of sweat stood out on his brow, so he swiped at them angrily with his balled-up shirt. These crazy vikings seemed eager to test the limits of his endurance. Atlas smirked, knowing that they would find none. Battles with weapons, without weapons, single matches or group melees, it mattered not. Atlas would face them all with a smile. But now, he wanted some time to himself. He scratched his bare chest, and felt the cool floor underneath his shoeless feet. He wondered if he'd ever get the hang of wearing these modern mortal clothes.
"Bah, as if it matters."
Valentine made her way through the hall in flipflops, balancing a large load of freshly cleaned laundry on her hip. Freyra was watching the children, but that didn't mean Val was taking a break in her motherly and wifely responsibilities. Three little ones and a mother with a penchant for dress up time meant a lot of laundry for the muse. However, as she turned to go down a longer hall that lead to the elevators, she found the hallway half obstructed by a massive and very shirtless man.
"Excuse me," she murmured softly. She didn't know who he was, which was strange since the residential compound was so tightly locked up, but his face was familiar. She just couldn't place it.
Well, well, this night just got a bit better, Atlas thought, his smirk widening to a grin. The vikings kept him so busy, that he had not been able to indulge himself in other physical pursuits. Also, the viking goddesses were more standoffish than his own family, if such a thing is possible. He would not let this opportunity pass unmet. A thought flashed through his mind as he looked at the woman's well-formed face, but it escaped him and Atlas was too distracted to chase it.
"Of course," Atlas began, his voice low and calm. He moved closer to the woman, as if he were headed the same way. "Would you like some help with that?" Atlas gestured to her load of laundry.
Where had she seen him? Where? It was driving Val nuts. "If it isn't too much trouble," she said softly, holding out the basket to the man. "I haven't seen you around here before..." Somebody new to the family? Certainly there would have been a great feast or at least a beer night. After handing over the laundry, she walked down the hall, heading for the stairwell.
"It is a terrible shame," Atlas said as he lifted the laundry basket onto his shoulder, making sure to accentuate the flexing muscles in his arms and chest, "That I have been here these many long weeks and never had the pleasure." Atlas silently applauded himself for that one. When he was finished, he briefly considered the fact that he hadn't met her before. Something seemed wrong about it. He had met every single viking in the place, eager as they were to test themselves against an evil giant. He mentally shrugged. Maybe she was just some attractive washerwoman. "I am Natal Maltose. I am... a guest here."
Val noticed the slight flexing, and it made her want to giggle out loud. "Well you know, I really just got settled in...I have to say I'm surprised you didn't notice the woman with triplets, though." She wanted to imply that the triplets came with a husband, and that maybe this man shouldn't try so hard. "I'm Valentine Delmar...my husband works for Ridgekeep. We're visiting for the holidays from Miami."
A frown tugged at Atlas' mouth, but did not fully appear. Atlas had had his way with wives and mothers before. Usually, they thanked him.
"Ah, then we have our answer," Atlas offered amiably. "I have been working for Ridgekeep, too. They work us very hard. I am away from my rooms much of the day. What about your husband? Does his work often keep him from your side?" Atlas' eyes lingered on her face, before straying elsewhere.
"Not really," Val replied firmly, noticing where his eyes were going. "He handles a lot of the agricultural work, but he doesn't go crazy with the travelling. Hell, he's even taken me with him." She almost, almost could remember where she'd seen him. Suddenly it clicked in her head. "Oh! You know my friend, Vadimas!"
Atlas paused. His memory refused to clear, but if she knew of him through Zeus' spawn, his desire for her cooled rapidly. Especially in an environment where he could not simply take her as he wanted. He resumed his stride, following the woman whose laundry he felt like pitching out a window.
Val noticed his shift in mood. Maybe whatever business transaction they'd done had not gone well? She continued up the steps quietly, opening the door to their floor and holding it open for him. "Thanks again for carrying the laundry for me." She could have managed on her own, but it was nice being treated with that kind of consideration.
Atlas new a dismissal when he heard it, and his pride bristled. But he new that witch was watching from somewhere, so he put on a polite face before his leash was yanked.
"My pleasure." The words were bitter in Atlas' mouth. He hated bearing needless burdens. He needed to end this before his emotions roared out of control. "Give your lucky husband my regards."
Val nodded, reaching out to grab the basket from him. He just looked...so angry. "Did...did I say something wrong?"
"No, ma'am," Atlas said, his smirk returning. "You have been maddeningly proper. Now, with your pardon, I'll be off to find more willing companionship." Atlas turned away. There were other fish in this cove. He would find one without a husband, or with a looser sense of fidelity. He pulled his shirt over his head, so that he could remove it enticingly again later.
Wow. Val made a face, not at all keen on this guy's attitude. Who cared if he'd helped her get her laundry up here? She scoffed. "Sorry if I somehow resisted your obviously overpowering machismo." She rolled her eyes, stepping towards her apartment door. She set her basket down by the door, reaching for her keys.
Atlas paused, and was beginning to turn back to face the woman when he caught himself. Smirk still affixed, he continued down the stairs.
"Your loss, woman," he said with a casually dismissive wave. "Try not to think of my 'over-powering machismo' when you're with your dirt-plowing husband." This night was proving fun, after all.
"[Go screw yourself,]" she muttered loudly, getting the door open and kicking her laundry basket inside.
Atlas jerked to a halt, his brow furrowed in momentary confusion. He hadn't expected that. His smile was quick to return. He could use it. He continued down the stairs until he was almost out of sight.
"[In your dreams, woman!]" His taunt hadn't yet stopped reverberating in the stairway when he ducked out of the nearest exit. Let that bitch stew on that.
Summary: Atlas tries to pick up Erato late one winter night at Ridgekeep. He bails when she seems content with her farmer husband, but his jerkass attitude leads to a fight. The fight leads to trouble... for Hephaestus? DUN DUN DUN!